Chapter 95: Don't Touch Me.... Unless You Mean It

Adrian slammed the door to the guest room, hands trembling as he leaned against it. He hated the way Vincent made him feel—like he was losing control. Like he was being seen.

He wasn't supposed to be the weak one. He wasn't supposed to feel anything.

But the second that man looked at him like that, it was like his armor cracked open.

A knock came, sharp and arrogant.

He didn't answer.

The door opened anyway.

"Boundaries, asshole," Adrian snapped.

Vincent leaned against the frame, his eyes scanning the room before landing squarely on Adrian. "Don't talk about boundaries when you just let me in with your silence."

Adrian narrowed his eyes. "Get out."

"Make me."

Adrian surged forward, shoving him hard. "I'm not one of your flings, Vincent. You don't get to treat me like I'm easy."

Vincent caught his wrist mid-shove and twisted it behind Adrian's back, forcing him against the wall. Not hard. Not painful. Just enough.

"I don't want easy," Vincent whispered against his ear. "I want difficult. I want dangerous. I want you."

Adrian's breath caught.

"You hate me," he whispered.

"No," Vincent murmured. "You hate that you don't hate me."

Adrian turned his head slightly, enough for their lips to almost brush.

"Don't touch me," he said, voice cracking.

"Then stop leaning into it."

Adrian was the one who kissed him first.

And it was a disaster.

Teeth clashed. Hands pulled. It was like setting fire to a powder keg—and they both knew it. Vincent pushed Adrian onto the bed, pinning him down as the air between them turned electric. Not sweet. Not soft. Just raw, reckless tension.

Adrian yanked him closer by the collar. "You better mean this, Vincent."

"I always mean what I ruin," Vincent growled.

---

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Elijah paused outside the room, brows furrowed at the thuds and muffled curses coming from inside. He turned to Dominic beside him and muttered, "They're either killing each other or making out."

Dominic snorted. "Knowing Vincent, probably both."

Adrian stared at the ceiling, chest heaving, hair tousled, lips swollen. His shirt was somewhere across the room, and Vincent was beside him—still fully dressed, of course. Smug bastard.

"Was that your idea of a victory?" Adrian muttered, not looking at him.

Vincent chuckled lowly, propping himself on one elbow. "That wasn't a victory. That was round one."

Adrian scoffed, sitting up and reaching for his shirt. "Well, don't get too excited. That was a one-time mistake."

Vincent reached out and pulled him back down by the wrist, flipping him onto his back like he weighed nothing. "Then why are you still here?"

"Because you dragged me back."

"You didn't fight very hard."

Adrian glared up at him. "You think I want you?"

"No," Vincent said slowly, brushing a thumb across Adrian's cheek, "I think you want to hate me more than you actually do. That's the problem."

Adrian flinched, the softness of the gesture catching him off guard. "Don't get gentle on me now. I like you better when you're insufferable."

"Good," Vincent said with a smirk, "Because I'm not here to be gentle. I'm here to ruin whatever lies you keep telling yourself."

Adrian turned his face away. "You don't know me."

"Not yet," Vincent said, lowering his voice. "But I plan to."

---

Later that evening...

Elijah sat in the kitchen with a steaming cup of tea, watching as Dominic stitched up his own arm like it was nothing.

"I told you to let me do it," Elijah said quietly.

"I've been through worse."

"I know," Elijah replied. "That's what scares me."

Dominic looked up at him then, expression unreadable. "Do you regret it? Being with someone like me?"

Elijah set the cup down and walked over, wrapping his arms gently around Dominic's broad shoulders from behind. "No. I'm just afraid of losing you before we even get to have something real."

Dominic covered Elijah's hand with his. "You already have me, Eli."

"I'm doing this so you don't have to do anything it's my party bby you're a diva and a diva does nothing"

The party was supposed to be private.

Only the closest allies of the Moretti family were invited, and yet — she walked in like she owned the room.

Tall. Elegant. Draped in black silk. Her red lips curled into a smirk as all eyes turned to her. Elijah froze by the bar, a glass of wine halfway to his lips, while Dominic stiffened next to Vincent.

"Serena," Dominic breathed, the name laced with annoyance and disbelief.

Serena Morelli — his former fiancée. A woman from a powerful mafia family, the one Dominic was arranged to marry before walking away from that deal… and meeting Elijah.

"I heard you were celebrating your little victory," she said smoothly, eyes flicking toward Elijah with amused disdain. "I had to see what kind of boy managed to tame Italy's King."

Elijah raised an eyebrow, setting his drink down. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"

Serena gave a fake pout. "Oh? He didn't tell you about me? I was supposed to be his wife."

Dominic stepped forward, jaw tight. "Serena, this is not the time."

"Is it ever the time?" she cut in sharply. "You left without so much as a word, Dominic. You threw away an empire for… this?"

Her eyes raked over Elijah as if he were dirt beneath her heels.

Elijah didn't flinch. He stepped in front of Dominic, shoulders squared. "I don't care who you are or who you were supposed to be. You weren't chosen. I was."

Serena laughed — cruel and sharp. "You think he chose you? You're just a distraction. A phase."

That's when it happened.

SMACK.

The slap rang out across the hall before anyone could react. Elijah's hand trembled in the air, face flushed with fury. But he hadn't slapped Serena.

He slapped Dominic.

"You let her talk to me like that?" Elijah snapped, eyes burning. "You didn't defend me. You just stood there."

Dominic reached for him, but Elijah stepped back, chest heaving. "I'm not a phase, and I'm not your second choice. If I stay with you, I have to know I come first. Always."

"Eli—"

"No," Elijah cut him off. "Take me home. I'm done with this night."

Dominic didn't argue. He looked ashamed, and that said more than anything. He turned to Vincent. "Prepare the jet. We're flying back."

Adrian, who had been watching quietly from the side, walked over and put an arm around Elijah. "We're going home."

Serena watched the storm she caused with a satisfied smile.

But she didn't know Elijah Sinclair.

And she certainly didn't know that this war wasn't over — it was just the beginning of Dominic Moretti fighting for real.

The villa in Tuscany was quiet when they landed. The sun had not yet risen, and a mist hung over the garden as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Elijah hadn't said a word the entire flight.

He walked straight to the bedroom he and Dominic shared, dropped his bag, and locked the door behind him. Adrian followed quietly to his own room, glancing back at Dominic, who stood there—frozen, defeated.

Vincent patted his shoulder. "You better fix this, boss. That wasn't just a slap. That was a warning."

Dominic nodded, jaw clenched.

—

Hours passed.

Inside, Elijah stared out the window, arms crossed, mind racing. He hated how much he cared. He hated that seeing Serena had hurt him. But more than that, he hated that Dominic hadn't done a damn thing when she insulted him.

Why didn't you say anything?

Why didn't you stop her?

Why did you make me feel like I was alone?

A soft knock on the door.

No answer.

Then another knock… and the sound of a key turning. Elijah spun around.

"You gave me the key," Dominic said quietly, stepping inside. "I'm using it now."

Elijah didn't speak.

"I should've handled it better. I should've shut her down the moment she opened her mouth. But I froze. Not because I don't care. Not because I don't love you. But because she reminded me of the man I used to be."

He stepped closer, voice low.

"The man who played politics. Who made decisions based on strategy, not feelings. But I'm not that man anymore. You made sure of that."

Elijah looked at him then, eyes guarded. "Words are cheap, Dominic."

Dominic nodded. "Then I'll prove it."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a folder. Inside — the full legal transfer of a luxury estate under Elijah's name.

"You wanted to know if I chose you. I did. I choose you every day, even when I screw up. And this"—he stepped closer—"this is just the beginning."

Elijah took the folder slowly, brows furrowed. "Why would you give me a house?"

"Because if you ever decide to leave me," Dominic whispered, "I want you to know you'll always have a place of your own. A place that's safe. That's yours."

Tears welled in Elijah's eyes before he could stop them.

"Idiot," he muttered, voice breaking. "You could've just apologized."

"I'm sorry," Dominic said gently, cupping his face. "Now let me spend the rest of my life proving it."

Elijah leaned in, forehead resting against Dominic's. "Fine. But you're on thin ice, Mafia King."

Dominic smiled. "Then I better start warming it up."